CHAPTER FOUR

V innie

I’m not prepared for angry, wobbly Evan. I swallow away the sudden fear that I was wrong to come here, that I’m only making things worse.

“I want to help you,” I say, because that much at least is true.

Evan’s long lashes flutter down. “I’m sorry. Maybe I overreacted.”

I nudge his shoulder. “Bet you didn’t expect to see me.”

He gives a hoarse laugh. “No.”

“I’m sorry about earlier. Maybe I was avoiding you.”

He opens his mouth.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I add hastily. “And I do want to help. But tomorrow, if you want, you can find a full-time nurse. I’m happy to stay as long as you need me though.”

He nods, but the movement is slow, and I’m not sure how much is about his head injury.

He gives a weak smile. “Thanks, Vinnie.”

“You’ll feel better tomorrow.”

“I hope so.”

I’m silent. Concussions are serious.

“And if you feel worse, I’ll take you straight to the doctor,” I promise.

“Thanks. I’m sorry I was rude.”

“You’re fine.”

He starts to close his eyes.

“Which one is your bedroom?”

He points at the door at the end of the hallway.

“Let’s go, buddy,” I say in my most cheerful voice.

Evan gives me definite side eye, but his lips twitch, and I’m happy.

I lead him down the hall, striding over the impossibly expensive Persian carpets. We pass dainty antique wooden furniture and large silk curtains that shut out any potential paparazzi. Crystal chandeliers sparkle above, and sconces glow over the elaborate designer wallpaper.

His steps falter, then he wobbles. “Shit.”

I frown, then carefully grab hold of his waist. “Almost there.”

“Yeah.”

I glance at him, and I hate the way his brow is creased, as if it’s difficult for him to avoid collapsing.

I open the door to his bedroom and lead him inside. I carefully avoid looking at the bed. No, I’m not going to picture him lying there. I’m not going to wonder who he takes there or imagine what he and his Argentinian ex did.

My heartrate speeds automatically, though. “I’ll take one of the guest rooms.”

“Okay.” Evan begins pulling off his clothes.

“What are you, um...?”

He pauses. “Can you help me?”

My throat dries, and I bounce my gaze away from his muscles, more visible now, but I’ve totally got this. I’ve totally got everything.

I help him strip, careful not to touch his sun-kissed skin, then stop when he’s down to his boxer briefs. I bounce my gaze away from his bulge guiltily, and pretend to be interested in his marble fireplace, his sitting corner with armchairs with similarly dainty legs, and his ornate crown molding like I’m an HGTV viewer.

“Nice place,” I say.

“Yeah? Valentina decorated it.”

Tension shoots through me, but I nod helplessly. “She did a good job.”

He nods, even though it’s totally strange that I’m in his bedroom, he’s mostly naked, and I’m complimenting his ex.

So didn’t see any of this happening.

Evan scrunches his lips together and darts his gaze toward his ensuite.

“What’s wrong?”

“Don’t want to fall in the shower.”

“I’ll get you a wet towel.”

“Kay.” Evan nods gratefully.

I dart inside his bathroom. Everything is black marble, and all the frames and fixtures are gold and ornate. I find a towel and wet it.

I’m back at once.

The man is gorgeous. Golden light flickers over his sculpted body. His sandy hair is ruffled, slick with sweat, curlier than normal. I pity the sculptors who toiled for years on masterpieces without him as their model.

I force myself to keep my gaze on his face, even though every instinct I have wants to linger over every muscle. I move the wet towel over his body, reminding myself the purpose of this is so that he doesn’t have to sleep in his own sweat.

If we were truly bros, like he used to think he were, this would be no issue.

But guilt rages through me, as I touch areas of his body he would never give me permission to touch if he knew. I don’t want him to think about this if I ever come out. I don’t want him to think about my skin reddening, my eyes dilating, and think...oh, that makes sense.

I glide the towel over his body in quick, efficient movements, trying to be gentle against his bruises, before finally crouching down to wipe down his legs.

“Sorry,” he apologizes.

I dart my gaze up, then heat fills me when my gaze lands on his bulge. It’s not hard, of course. But it’s big all the same. I can imagine how it would feel in my hand. I know the shape, the size.

God, I even know the smell.

“No apology necessary,” I grunt, jumping up. I angle myself away from him, willing my cock to soften before he notices.

“That’s why you stopped hanging out with me,” Evan mumbles. “Too much work.”

I still, my veins turning cold. Is that what Evan thinks?

“That’s nonsense.”

“The kid, the messy breakup, the schedule...”

I guide Evan toward the bed. “You’re not too much work.”

“And Stella is awesome.”

“Totally awesome.”

His face grows serious again. “But you left.”

“I’m here now,” I promise, as I help him into the bed. I pull his silky-soft covers over him. “I’ll leave the door open. Call if you need anything.”

“I’m fine,” he grumbles.

“Of course, you are.”

Unfortunately, we’re wrong.